'You Are the Highest Bidder! Your Last Bid Was ... ' 'NO! WHAT? ...NO! WAIT! WHAT? No No Noooooooo!'

There is a guy with an antique store out in Edmonton that I follow on YouTube.

His business is called Curiosity Inc.

He buys cool stuff.  LOTS of cool stuff.  

And sometimes he brings/sends that stuff to auction.

I don't usually bid on anything he's put through auction though, because he really does find some amazing things that I can only afford to look at, and drool over, but not bid on.

So back in September, he ended up buying a storage unit FULL of vintage comics!

Over 10,000 comic books!  

You can see that video here: 10,000 comics in a storage unit!?! We make a deal! Part 1.

He decided to send the lot of them to an online auction house in New York who specializes in comics, ComicConnect.com.

Before it went live, I checked out the auction to see if there was anything I might be able to actually bid on.

There was someone in particular I had in mind, that if I was able to win, I thought one of these items would make a cool Christmas present for them.

So I went to one of the few lots remaining that didn't already have a bid in the hundreds of dollars, and placed my bid.

It was a set of two comics.  The #1 editions of Rawhide and Gunsmoke.

I was kind of surprised they were still in my price range, so figured I'd go to at least my limit. Right now, they were still fair game.

Then, two days later, the auction went live. 

Since it happened to be on a weekend, I logged in towards the end to see how things were going, and sure enough, SOMEONE ELSE had bid on MY comics!

So I bid again.

And so did they.

And so did I.  And so did they.

Ding. Ding.    Ding. Ding.   Ding. Ding.

Dammit!  STOP THAT!

And on it went.

At this point, I was pissed off because the other person was on auto-bid, to a particular maximum, so it didn't matter how much I increased my bid ... $2, $3, $5 ... they automatically outbid me.

My personal limit was $50.

My next bid would push me over that mark, (I HAD to bid $55 to stay in the game) but what if that was enough to win it?  Then I'd be kicking myself.  

I didn't know what to do, and there was just over an hour left in the auction.

So with resignation, and more than a little crankiness, I said out loud through gritted teeth as I typed into the bidding box, 'FIVE! FIVE! DECIMAL! ZERO! ZERO!' 

and BANGED that enter key with a 'THERE!' and BOOM!  there it was ...

The little sentence I was hoping to see. 

'You are the Highest Bidder! Your last bid was  ... $5500'. 

Yup, you have that right friends, FIVE THOUSAND, FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS.

My jaw dropped.

My heart stopped.

I couldn't breathe.

I stared dumbfounded at the screen ... 'You are the Highest Bidder! Your last bid was ... $5500.'

 'NO!  WHAT? ... NO! WAIT! WHAT?  No No NOOOOOOOO!'

I KNEW I hadn't typed in 5500.00.  I knew it with EVERY fiber of my being. 

Yet there it was, staring right at me, 'You are the Highest Bidder! Your last bid was ... $5500.'

Had I started breathing yet?  Breathe, Kim, BREATHE!

I immediately sent an email to the auction house, explaining that I had bid fifty five dollars, not five thousand five hundred, and could they please fix this asap as I didn't want to screw the Curiosity Inc dude out of his sale, but also wasn't about to buy the comics for FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS!

Then I hit Send.

And sat.  And waited. And watched the seconds tick by.

No reply.

Damn.  Damn.  Damn.  

I really should have grabbed a screenshot at this point, but I was focusing my attention more on NOT passing out.

Back to the auction page and find a phone number.

My heart was pounding in my ears by the time it started ringing, and I was never so happy to hear a human answer the phone!

I explained my situation and as soon as I mentioned using the decimal point, he said, 'Ahhhh yes, there's a glitch in the system with the decimal point right now, it converts it to a 'thousand'.

'Yeah!', I said, 'IT DOES!'

So with me on the phone, he fixed it.  Immediately. 'OK, refresh your screen and check what it says now ... '

I did.

And then I started breathing again.

NEVER EVER EVER was I so happy to have had a human answer the phone.

I honestly expected to have to stumble through some convoluted automated system until the auction finally ended and I'd be stuck owing over five thousand dollars for these comics!  GAH!!!

So I thanked him, profusely, and decided to walk away from the computer for a bit, with the intention of checking in the last few minutes..

At this point, I was DONE bidding.  If I happened to be outbid now, so be it, least I tried.  I'd just find a different Christmas present.

With a minute to go to the end, I checked ... I WAS STILL WINNING!

Now on one hand, I felt guilty, because I figured that for those 15 min or so until the auction dude and I had straightened it out, I probably scared away a few bidders.  Bidders who would have taken the comics for more than I'd paid for them in the end, but not at five thousand dollars.

On the other hand ... I WAS STILL WINNING!

And win them I did!  For my final bid of $55.00

I honestly went into the auction thinking I wouldn't win anything, but there it was, the 'You have the winning bid' notice, right there on the screen.

Now you would think that might be the end of this story.

Oh nay nay, my friends.  Nay nay.  Not in my world.

It was time to Checkout.

So I went to the checkout screen and started entering my information and then I got to 'Shipping'.  

I had two options.

Option A - Regular ground was going to cost .... $270 ... plus tax.  In US funds.

Option B - Express - Over $300 ... plus tax.  In US funds.

I was SO disappointed.

So I left the website and sent an email explaining that while I would definitely pay the bid amount, and the auction fee, there was no way I could justify $300 shipping for 2 comics from New York to Canada.  

They could give them to someone there who wanted them.

The next day I received an email letting me know the shipping charges were incorrect and they would fix it shortly.

Eventually everything worked out.

Well, almost everything.  

They didn't arrive in time for Christmas, which meant I had to resort to a not as exciting Plan B present, but as soon as they got here last week I shipped them off to their destination and it was a surprise #ChristmasInJanuary!

And the recipient (who had no idea these were coming) was very happy with them as they brought back some great memories, which had been my exact intention. 

It was my first real auction outside of eBay, where I actually won something, and I DID learn my lesson.  

Bidding wars will get you smacked down by Karma.

And never ... ever ... EVER use the decimal point when placing a bid!

Now go check out Curiosity Inc's channel, and their latest adventure where they bought the contents of a house for $10,000 on an instinct and prayer, and turned it into an over $300,00 profit, with another auction to go.

And it couldn't have happened to nicer people!  

K.

It Was Enough

The other night the 20yr old and his girlfriend were in the kitchen making dinner, and I was roaming around, doing this and that on the outskirts when I overheard … ‘We had so much fun when we were kids!’.

I know he didn’t realize it, but as a single parent for all these years, one who worried so much about ‘enough’ …

               Do I read enough?

               Do I play enough?

               Do I teach enough?

               Do I laugh enough?

               Do I discipline enough?

               Do I nurture enough?
               Do they have enough?

… never ending enough, what he didn’t realize was how much those simple words, ‘We had so much fun when we were kids!’, made me stop in my tracks, filled my heart, and made me smile.

Hearing your now-grown-up boy say that he had a happy childhood, and that he had fun growing up, is something every parent (I would hope) strives to achieve. 

Yes, you want your kids to do well in life, to be good people, and hopefully turn out to be awesome adults. 

But it’s also a good feeling to know that they were happy, and had a good time getting to wherever they may be today.

So I guess, whatever I did, it was ... enough.


K.

Once A Mean Girl, Always A Mean Girl?

Mean girls.

You can't escape them.  

They're at your school, your work, yoga class, the grocery store ... go anywhere there's a large gathering of humans, chances are there will be one mean girl in the group.

I don't think I was ever one of 'them'.  At least I certainly hope not.

If anyone has ever perceived me as one, I apologize!

And having two boys, I believe I got off easy in that part of the parenting department, as boys just don't go down that same 'mean girl' path that the girls seem to.

Sure there's some drama, and complaints and they have their arguments with friends, but then it's forgotten.

Not with girls.  WE.  FORGET.  NOTHING!

And we can be cold, and vindictive and spiteful, and downright mean.

No ... really ... I'm serious!


As we get older though, we understand that compassion, and caring and empathy are better qualities to have, than having the biggest circle of friends, and making life hell for those NOT in that circle.

At least ... SOME of us get it.

For others perhaps, it may simply be a case of; once a mean girl, always a mean girl.


While I was home over Christmas, the boys, my mother and I went to visit my grandmother in her nursing home.

She is in her 90's now, and firmly in the clutches of that terrible Alzheimer disease, so she's not exactly the lady I remember so vividly from my youth.

Alzheimer's not only robs a person of their memories, and leaves them a shell of what they once were physically, but it can also do 'strange' things to the person it has afflicted.

One thing that happened to my grandmother, was that she stopped speaking french for awhile.

The woman is French Acadian.  She was brought up French, and raised her own family as French. Yes, she could speak english also, but french was her native language. 

She's a French woman through and through.

But one day, all of a sudden, she would only speak english.  No french.  At all.

Then, just as suddenly, it was back to french again.

Now, she rarely speaks.


She also gets very agitated easily.  

But how could you not? When you don't recognize where you are, or the people around you or why you're there? 

And you can't even get out of your damn chair.

And you're medicated.

How frustrating would that be, to be trapped in your own mind and body?


But one of the biggest adjustments is the personality change.  

She swears now.

My little sweet, polite, respectful, loving grandmother will now curse you out, just as easily as saying hello to you.

No, definitely NOT the woman who has been my grandmother all these years.


But I do understand why she does what she does and says what she says.  

Even if she doesn't realize she's doing it.


That particular day, we (all four generations of us) were sitting in a 'common room' at the nursing home and mom was feeding her lunch.

The boys and I were talking quietly, when all of a sudden, Nanny decided to curse at my mom. In french.

The boys just kind of looked at each other and me, and mom. They may not have understood exactly what she said, but they knew by my surprised reaction, and Nanny's tone that it wasn't good.

Mom simply spoke to her calmly. She's used to this.


The woman sitting at the next table over with her friends however (who are also patients there), decided to make fun of my grandmother.

She made fun of, and laughed at my grandmother.

Never ... ever in my almost 44yrs have I EVER wanted to kick the ass of rudely disrespect an elderly person.

Until THAT day!

I seriously wanted to go right over the table and yell at her.  Tell her exactly what I thought of her making fun of someone who can't control their actions or words.

Get right in her face, and let her know that if she EVER made fun of my grandmother again, it would be ME she would deal with!

I wanted to come down on her and let my bitch flag fly high!

But, I didn't, of course.

She's an elderly woman in a nursing home.

She may not have understood that other people could hear her.

Instead, I simply looked over at her and her friends with my evilest glare, bit my tongue, HARD, and focused on enjoying the rest of my visit with my grandmother.


I can't say it didn't bother me, because it did.

I thought about it after we left, on the drive home, and wondered to myself what that woman was like when she was younger?

Was she a nice person?

Or was she always a mean girl?

Once a mean girl, always a mean girl?


I don't know the answer to that. 

I realize she's there for her own reasons, and may not even be in her own 'right mind', but prior to the incident she was sitting there having a conversation with two other people and then later walked away on her own.

Whatever her health issues, she's definitely in a better place physically and mentally than my grandmother.

Maybe I'm wrong, but I see no other explanation for her actions.

And if I'm not ... Seriously? In a nursing home, making fun of other patients.

That's just mean.



So, here's a little secret for you, for those who don't yet know ...  NOBODY likes the mean girl.

Not at 7 ... or 17 ... or 70.


Don't be a mean girl. 

Be better than that. 

Someone's granddaughter will thank you for it.


K.

You Can't Go Home Again.

There's an old saying that keeps popping into my head more and more as I get older.

"You can't go home again."

It's also a book, by Thomas Wolfe, for those who are interested.

I have heard the phrase forever, and used to think, 'Bull!'.

I used to go home all the time!  

When I went away to university at 18, I would come home for every holiday break, and sometimes in between.

When I decided to move to Nova Scotia permanently, and got my own apartment, I would still go home regularly to visit, and eat!

When I got married at 25, I went home! Had the wedding in my hometown.

I would take the kids home to visit mom and dad, and sleep in my old room, which granted had been redecorated to include a crib, but it was still my room.

It was still home.

I always went home. 

The old saying was just that.  An old, meaningless saying.

And then my dad died. 

And slowly, year after year things and people change, and what was once  'Home', becomes the house you drive by on those occasional visits back to the street you grew up on, in the town you grew up in.

Now, I take the kids to visit my mother in her new house, that she shares with her longtime boyfriend.  (Boyfriend? I still find it weird saying that.)

And the boys and I now stop by and visit with my dad in the graveyard.

I'm finally starting to understand it.

That old, meaningless phrase.

I can no longer drive over the 'little bridge' and look off to the right and see my grandmother's house.

The view is completely obstructed by a bunch of apartments now (I think they're apartments), where once her neighbour's little house sat. 

And my grandmother, I now visit in her nursing home, but she has no idea who I am, when she looks at her eldest grandchild. 

This past Christmas, the boys and I went home again.  

Regardless what it might actually be, I still call it home.

It was a short visit, but it's always nice to see my family and eat my mother's cooking!

I took the kids for a drive around the old neighbourhood before we left, as we usually do.

I've pointed out different houses to them over the years, where friends lived, told many stories as we'd drive by.

We've spent time at my childhood park and elementary school and we've driven along most of my old paper route.

All of it there, much of it the same, just no longer, home.

Because I finally get it now, the meaning of that old, meaningless saying.

And I honestly consider myself one of the lucky ones. 

I had a great, long run of going home.

Because to me, home was growing up in that house, on that street, in that neighbourhood, in that town, with those parents, and surrounding family and community.

And being able to go back, as often as I did, and everything being just the way it was.

I had all of that for a very long time, so yes, I do consider myself one of the lucky ones.

And even though my mother lives in a different house, in a different neighbourhood, with someone who is not my dad, I'll keep going back to visit as much as I can, because she is my rock and I love her.

I will still visit my family while there.

I will still take my kids on drives 'through town' to show them the sights of my youth and tell them stories.

Because that's what you do when you go back.

But they (whoever 'they' are who invent old, meaningless sayings), are right.

I'm not going home.

Because for some of us, "You can't go home again."

K.

When Making Ice Cream, Use Less Fruit. And Hold The Wood.

Adam and I made soft banana ice cream over the weekend.

Using only bananas.  

You cut a couple of bananas into pieces, put them in the freezer, and then once frozen, into the blender.

It turned out tasting very banana-y (obviously).

And it would have been very good ... if I had not used a wooden spoon to help move the bananas along the sides of the blender a little bit, pushing them down so they would turn to mush ... and came up with a bit less spoon.

Crap.

So much for the banana ice cream.



This evening, I walked into the kitchen to find the brand new package of strawberries open and on the counter, and a bunch gone from the package.

When I called Adam out to put it away, he showed me where the missing berries were.

Yup.  Freezer.

Apparently, we're trying it again.

I'm game for that.


Only THIS time, when making ice cream, we'll use less fruit. 

And hold the wood.

K.

Her Name Is Rehtaeh Parsons

Her name is Rehtaeh Parsons!

She could be your daughter.  She could be your friend.  She could be the girl two houses over, who babysits your kids or walks your dog.

She could be any 17 yr. old girl trying to get through this roller coaster we call life.

She loved animals. She was a big sister. She cared about people. She brought joy to her family.  She was a nice girl.

She was also allegedly raped. I have to say allegedly, nobody has been convicted yet.  She was bullied relentlessly.  She was let down by the systems (yes multiple) in place to protect her.  

And 13 months ago, she took her own life to end the pain.

I’m not going to link to anything specific here.

Simply Google Rehtaeh Parsons.  You’ll find her.

You'll read her story.

And if you have any sense of what's 'right' and 'just' in this world, you'll be outraged.

And as a woman, a mom, most likely ... you'll cry.

Her case is still pending.

Justice has not yet been served.

Nobody has been punished.

Dirtbags are still walking free.

And her family has been threatened.  


As of last week, the media is no longer allowed to publish information about Rehtaeh's case.

Her family isn't allowed to publicly discuss her case with them, because there is now an 'official publication ban' in place.

Well guess what?  I’m not family.  

Hell, I’m not even a family friend.  I'm not media, and I’m not part of ‘the case’ in any way whatsoever, so I’m here to tell you …

Her name is Rehtaeh Parsons! 

She loved animals. She was a big sister.  She cared about people. She brought joy to her family. She was a nice girl.

She was also allegedly raped. I have to say allegedly, nobody has been convicted yet.  She was bullied relentlessly. She was let down by the systems (yes multiple) in place to protect her.  

And 13 months ago, she took her own life to end the pain.

I know, I just repeated myself.  I'm making a point. That being ... 

Her name is Rehtaeh Parsons!

And she still deserves justice.

“A provincial court judge in Halifax cited a mandatory publication ban in reference to a prominent child pornography case.”  - The Vancouver Sun.

That should read, ‘… in the Rehtaeh Parsons child pornography case.’

Her name is Rehtaeh Parsons.

“The publication ban cited comes under Section 486 of the Criminal Code, which prevents the naming of alleged victims in some cases.” - The Vancouver Sun (same article as above)

Seriously?  SERIOUSLY?!?!??!

You have concern over protecting Rehtaeh’s identity NOW?

Where was the concern for Rehtaeh when she needed it over a year ago?

Two teenage boys are facing charges for child pornography.  One is being charged with making child pornography.

The only people this ban may be ‘protecting’ would be THEM! 

Certainly NOT Rehtaeh.

Officials in MANY different departments; police, healthcare, education, the legal system … they ALL failed her.

People who were supposed to be her friends. FAILED HER!

What is this publication ban to 'protect' her supposed to accomplish, now?

Not sure.

What is it actually going to accomplish?

It’s going to piss off people like me.  

People who are NOT media, but yet have a forum to remind you … 

Her name is Rehtaeh Parsons!

You regulars in the Korner are already aware, that I have always tried to take a stand against bullying.

Even more so after the death of Amanda Todd.

I’m trying to raise two teenage boys in a world that accepts and … in some cases … encourages violence against women.

I have an uphill battle.

But I refuse to give up.

I refuse to stop talking to them about Rehtaeh and Amanda.

I refuse to let my boys think that ANY kind of bullying, or violence against women … or anyone for that matter, is OK.

I refuse to let them think there are no consequences for bad choices.

I refuse to let them turn into Dirtbags.

Her name is Rehtaeh Parsons.  And I make sure they know it.

On May 16^th, the judge will determine whether or not the publication ban should be lifted.

Until then … Her name is Rehtaeh Parsons.

And since the media can't do it, I'll take a moment to remind you all ...

• It is NOT OK to take an inappropriate video/picture of someone.

• It is NOT OK to distribute that video/picture among the masses.

• It is NOT OK to torment the victim of the video/picture.

• It is NOT OK to take 'drunk' as a 'yes' for sex.  Anything other than a 'yes' or 'take me now!' ... is a 'NO!'

• It is NOT OK to bully and taunt and threaten and generally make someone's life miserable through social media.  And yes, this includes ALL social media.

• And most importantly … it is NOT OK to let the Dirtbags who ruin someone’s life, simply walk away without facing ANY consequences 

Where is the justice in that? 

Where is the justice for Rehtaeh Parsons?

That’s right. Her name is Rehtaeh Parsons. 

 

DON’T FORGET IT!

Talk about Rehtaeh (and Amanda, and CJ, and Nicole).

Talk about 'appropriate behaviour' and 'slut shaming'.

Talk about teenage drinking.

Talk about mistakes. 

Talk about 'No' and 'drunk' means NO!  Period!

Talk about bullying.

Talk about, as a parent, loving unconditionally.

TALK about suicide. Don't sweep it under the rug.



Just ... talk.  Please.

And hug your kids.

And take the time to remember.

 The boys and I.

Remembering and respecting Rehtaeh in our own small way.

K.

** Pictures of Rehtaeh posted with permission.

P.S.  I'd just like to clarify that by 'Dirtbags', I don't only mean the people who have been charged with crimes against her.  I'm also including the people who tormented this poor girl in person, and through social media, relentlessly.

That's NOT OK!

I thought we had a charge called 'criminal harassment'? Time to put it to use.